


Of Ornaments and Adoptions

by desert_neon (sproutgirl)



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: AU, Adoption, Christmas Fluff, Feelstide 2015, Foster Care, Holidays, Kid Skye | Daisy Johnson, M/M, Phil Coulson is Skye's Father, dad phil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-09
Updated: 2015-12-09
Packaged: 2018-05-03 12:54:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5291642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sproutgirl/pseuds/desert_neon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint works at a holiday shop every year for extra cash. When Phil Coulson and his new teenage daughter walk in looking for ornaments, his Christmas season starts to look up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Ornaments and Adoptions

**Author's Note:**

> Feelstide 2015 Prompt #53: AU where Phil adopts Skye and wants to give her the best Christmas ever because she's never had a real family before. Clint is the neighbor, social worker, or the guy at the Christmas store who falls in love with how caring Phil is being.
> 
> I hope my effort makes the prompter happy! Happy Feelstide, all!

“Hello!” Clint forced a smile onto his face as he greeted the new customers. He had a feeling it came out more violent than cheerful, but some things couldn’t be helped. “Can I help you find anything today?”

“No, thank you,” the man said, offering a much smaller and much warmer smile of his own. “We’ll just browse for a bit.”

Clint nodded as the guy took a shopping basket and said something quietly to the thirteen or fourteen year old girl—his daughter?—who rolled her eyes and crossed her arms and did her best to look sullen as she trailed after him to the first display. But Clint could see that the attitude was an act. It wasn’t the typical teenage defiance or embarrassed horror to be seen out and about with her dad. It was defensive, and wary, and Clint couldn’t know, of course, what the situation was, but he could relate.

He’d spent a long time feeling the same distrust towards all the adults who had supposedly been there to help him.

The pop-up Christmas shop wasn’t big, and it was open in design, so he could see them easily as they moved from display to display, the guy making suggestions and the girl huffing or shrugging in response. Occasionally he would put an ornament in the basket anyway, but mostly he seemed to be letting her decide, even if each non-answer made both his mouth and the lines around his eyes tighten just that little bit more.

“. . . so stupid,” the girl said as they headed to another display, this one close enough that Clint’s horrible ears could pick out their words. “I don’t even know why we’re here.”

“Skye—”

“Daisy!”

“You’re right, I’m sorry.” The guy tried to run a hand over her hair, but she jerked back and he let it fall again while taking a deep breath. “Daisy. I just thought it might be nice for you to have a tree that wasn’t covered in Star Wars and Captain America. We’re a family now, and we need to start making our own traditions.”

“Sure,” Daisy replied, her tone implying deep doubt. “Whatever you say.”

He reached for her again but she ducked away. “Daisy—”

“Whatever. I gotta pee.” She turned to Clint. “You guys got a bathroom here?”

Clint shook his head. “Sorry. Closest one is down by the Apple Store.”

“Figures,” she muttered, but there had been a spark of something in her eyes at the mention of Apple. “I’ll be back.”

“Half an hour,” the man instructed sternly. “I don’t want to have to come drag you away like last time.”

She gave a sarcastic little wave over her shoulder as she stomped away, the bell over the door jingling merrily.

“Sorry.” Clint turned back to the guy, who was still looking out the front windows as he spoke, watching as she made her way through the holiday crowds. His shoulders were rolled forward now, and his spine curved in defeat. “She’s not usually like this.”

“Holidays are rough,” Clint offered, not sure what the hell else he was supposed to say.

“For her more than most. And it hasn’t exactly been a stellar month outside the holiday thing.” Finally looking away from the door, the guy approached Clint’s counter and offered his hand. “Phil Coulson.”

Clint stood, dumbfounded, for a moment. Customers didn’t ever offer handshakes. Clint wasn’t a person to them, just a step they needed to take in their holiday preparations. The only time they ever even really saw him was if they needed to yell at something, because he tended to make a pretty good target.

Apparently he’d stayed still too long, because Phil Coulson started to awkwardly withdraw the hand. So Clint hastily stuck his own hand out, because what? He could be a normal human. “Clint Barton.”

“Mr. Barton,” Phil said as he accepted the handshake. “I apologize for my daughter’s behavior.”

“It’s okay. And, uh, you know. Call me Clint.” He stupidly pointed to his nametag, like that had anything to do with manners and last names.

Phil smiled a little though, and _holy shit_ did that do things to his face. And to Clint’s libido. “Phil.” He set the basket down on the counter, but waved Clint away when he reached for it. “I’m hoping we’re not finished. We have a big tree at home, and barely anything to put on it.”

“Other than Star Wars and Captain America?”

Shaking his head at the gentle teasing, Phil’s smile turned rueful. “And most of those were given to me over the years by well-meaning friends and colleagues. I never even really bothered with a tree before Skye.”

“Daisy,” Clint corrected without thinking.

“God, yes. Daisy. _Fuck_.” Phil leaned heavily on the counter. “I feel like I’m never going to get used to that.”

“How long’s it been?” Clint asked, because the alternatives were to either stay silent or ask for details that really weren’t his business. The guy looked like he needed to unload a little, but Clint would leave it up to him how much to share.

“The name change? It’s a side effect of this lovely month we’ve been having. And she came to me last January, so it’s nearly a year I’ve known her as Skye. It’s not an easy thing, suddenly calling your child by a new name.”

“But you’re trying,” Clint said while the possibilities ran through his head. A previously unknown biological child, or foster kid? He would bank on biological. He knew from experience that foster parents did not claim the kid as their son or daughter after only one year, if they ever did at all. “That’s more than a lot of parents would do.”

“Thanks.” Phil offered him a smile, which Clint very much appreciated, even though it looked very tired round the edges. “To make matters worse, the legal name she was given when she entered the system as a baby was Mary Sue Poots. I don’t blame her for asking to be called Skye when she was four.”

Clint breathed a small laugh, even though he was shocked. Phil _wasn’t_ her biological dad? “And Daisy?” he asked. “Where does that come from?”

Phil sighed and didn’t say anything, running a thumb along the edge of the counter.

“I’m sorry,” Clint said, feeling like an uncouth moron. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

“No, it’s . . . You’re right to be curious.” Phil offered him a tight smile, shrugging off the apology. “It’s an unusual situation.”

“Yeah, but—”

“She found her parents last month.”

Clint’s mouth snapped shut.

“Apparently she’d been hacking everything she could find for years, looking for them. She’s kind of a genius with computers.” He sounded so proud, even through the sadness. “Turns out, they’re still alive, and I know she probably built up some fantasy reunion where they’d had to give her up or she’d been taken, and they’d be so happy to have finally found her again.”

“Not the case, huh?”

Phil shook his head. “They’re both very violent people, though in very different ways. Her mom’s in jail for cold, calculating murder and her dad has a nasty temper. I’ve actually had to get a restraining order against him.”

Clint scowled. He knew all too well what some fathers were capable of.

“I’m sorry,” Phil said suddenly, pushing himself away from the counter. “I don’t know why I’m telling you all this. I should probably let you get back to work.”

“No, hey.” Clint reached out and touched Phil’s arm to stop him. “Sometimes it’s easier to talk to a complete stranger. And anyway, I get it. I mean, I know how she feels, a little.”

“Oh?”

“I was a system kid too,” Clint admitted, then realized he was still touching Phil’s arm and also just how soft his sweater was and how firm the muscle underneath felt. He hastily pulled his hand away. “She’s probably been through this a hundred times, had Christmases and Thanksgivings and birthdays with a bunch of different families. And every time, a small part of her is hoping that this will be it, this will be the family to keep her. And every time, she’s been disappointed.”

“I’m not going to disappoint her.”

Clint tried a conciliatory smile. “I’m sure you won’t,” he said, because even though Phil seemed like a nice guy and he probably had good intentions, something always happened to put foster kids back in the system.

Phil narrowed his eyes and tensed a little. “I’m not. I have adoption papers at home. Already signed and boxed and wrapped up in Christmas paper.”

“Oh.” Clint grinned, vicariously happy. “Give them to her.”

“What?”

“Give them to her now. Today. When you get home. Don’t wait for Christmas. She’ll enjoy the next two weeks way more if she knows she doesn’t have to stay guarded.”

“I— Yes. Yes, okay. I will.” He grinned back, then looked down into the shopping basket, then back up at Clint. “And maybe . . . Maybe I’ll just put these back, and we can come back later, when she’s more in the Christmas spirit.” 

“That would be . . . Yes, good,” Clint said, silently lamenting his sudden lack of proper sentence structure. The brightness of Phil’s real, honest smile was more than a little distracting, and he had to put one hand on the counter to steady himself. “That would be good.”

Phil nodded. “Yes.” He covered Clint’s hand with his own. “Thank you, Clint.”

Clint glanced down at their hands, then back up, swallowing roughly at the look in Phil’s eyes. He was going to say “You’re welcome,” or maybe, “Don’t mention it,” but first he had to get his breath back and his tongue to work.

The bell over the door jingled, and they both yanked their hands back, their heads swiveling as one to face the entrance.

“Oh my god,” Daisy exclaimed. “Are you done, or do you still need to get his number?”

Incredibly, Phil blushed, but when he spoke, it was with remarkable dad-like calm. “We need to go home, actually. We’ll come back tomorrow.” He shot a glance at Clint, who nodded. He would be on shift tomorrow.

“Whatever,” Daisy scoffed. “It’s not like I even care.”

“Humor me,” Phil said, and even though she was throwing the same attitude at him, he seemed a lot lighter.

“Sure,” she huffed, looking at Clint speculatively. He blushed, but held his ground, looking right back at her, a grin hovering around his lips. Her day—her life—was about to get so much better.

“I’ll put these away,” he offered, taking the basket off the counter. “You guys get home and do what you need to do.”

“Thank you, Clint. We’ll be back tomorrow.” Phil gave him one last smile, then ushered Daisy out of the store.

 

_________

 

“Can I add this one?” Daisy asked the next day, shyly handing Clint one more ornament over the two full baskets he was working on ringing up while Phil still wandered the store.

Clint took it from her, throat tightening at the sight of the snowflake.

**_Dad  
Est. 2015_**

“Of course you can. In fact,” he added, wrapping it in tissue, “why don’t you just keep it in your pocket for now? Give it to him later?”

“But we have to pay for it.”

Clint taped the tissue down and held it out to her. “You really don’t.”

“Oh. Thanks.” She stuffed it in her hoodie pocket and leaned in. “He’s maybe going to chicken out and not ask for your number. Don’t let him, okay?”

Clint grinned. “Okay.”

 

 

—the end—

**Author's Note:**

> [Daisy's ornament for Phil](http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/51G66MCKd4L._SX425_.jpg)


End file.
